


Who Let the Dogs Out?

by magneticdice



Series: A.U.gust 2015 [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4569174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magneticdice/pseuds/magneticdice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stolen Pet AU: Carl steals a bunch of dogs and Ian is the one who has to return the scary-ass pitbull to an equally scary Mickey Milkovich.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Let the Dogs Out?

**Author's Note:**

> it took me way too long to write this and it got to almost 3k when it was supposed to be a short oneshot! ...oops... also, a little bit of karen hate MAAAAY have seeped in, sorry.
> 
> as always, comments and kudos keep me going! and a big thanks to doobs69 for being my beta tonight!

Ian was in the middle of a very pleasant dream when the sound of his sister screaming downstairs woke him up. He groaned and turned around, wrapping his pillow around his ears for good measure, trying to sink as deep into his bed as he could, but it was no use. He was definitely awake.

He begrudgingly got up and peed, then went downstairs to see what the hell was going on. He surveyed the scene before making it all the way down the staircase: there were five or six dogs running amok, either fighting with each other, marking their territory or tearing the room apart.

Fiona was flipping out, her face so red that she looked like she was having a stroke. “I thought we talked about this last time, Carl! There are rules, and destroying our house goes against those rules!” she shouted.

“Yeah, but that was before we needed the money so badly. Things are different now,” Carl reasoned.

“Things aren’t different,” Fiona told him, throwing her hands into the air. “I told you that I would handle it, and I’m handling it. It’s not the first, nor will it be the last time I have to work a couple of extra shifts to cover meet the rent. You’re a kid, and you don’t need to worry about it,” she explained, putting a hand on his shoulder in true big-sister fashion. “ _Now get rid of the dogs_.”

“Hey,” Ian said, finally getting downstairs and walking into the living room. “What’s going on?” He watched Fiona, waiting for her to explain how Carl had screwed up this time.

“Your brother thinks that he can steal people’s dogs and then return them for a reward!” she screamed over the incessant barking. A small chihuahua was trying to gnaw on her shoelace and she shook him away in exasperation.

Ian’s immediate reaction was to laugh at the pure genius behind Carl’s logic. “That actually doesn’t sound like such a bad idea…” he said, and was met with a cocky smirk from his little brother.

“Ian! Look at this place!” Fiona complained again, eyes going wide with alarm. “Don’t you _dare_ encourage him,” she added, narrowing them so that Ian would know how serious this was.

He looked around the living room again at the destruction the dogs had caused. A mean-looking pitbull was in the corner by the piano, chewing on one of Liam’s action figures and growling at any of the other dogs who got too close. In the opposite side of the room, a mini poodle was squatting and taking a dump right beside their armchair, and the other two mixes were battling it out on top of the couch, seeing who would gain possession of the throw pillow. He could definitely see why Fiona was angry...

“Okay, maybe you have a point,” he conceded, ducking his head slightly.

“You’re taking them all back,” she said pointedly, zeroing in on Carl again. “Every single one.”

Carl actually smiled at her, flashing his teeth. “Okay, no problem,” he said happily, earning another frown from Fiona.

Ian was quicker on the uptake. “He thinks you’re gonna let him skip school to return them,” he explained to his sister.

Fiona’s frown grew when she discovered her obvious predicament. “No, absolutely not,” she said, shaking her head. “No more cutting!” Carl crossed his arms in obvious disappointment.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll do it when I get home.”

“Right,” Fiona huffed sarcastically. “They’re not staying here! There’ll be nothing left by this afternoon!”

“We can just let them go,” Carl suggested, shrugging his shoulders like it was a no brainer.

Fiona bit her lip, obviously not liking that option, but not wanting them inside either. Her eyes scanned the destruction being wrought by the dogs until they settled on Ian.

Ian knew what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth.

“No, Fiona. No way. NO. WAY,” he told her, taking a few steps back towards the stairs he’d just descended.

“Come on, Ian,” she said, rushing to block his escape. She planted herself in front of the stairs. “They have collars. Just read the addresses and take them home.”

Ian shook his head even though he already knew it was pointless. “Come on, Fiona…” he tried, feeling the defeat settle in. He had no excuse to give her that would make her change her mind.

“Carl _has_ to go to school, and Debbie left early to drop off Liam at daycare before class. You’re the only one who’s home. _Please,_ Ian _?_ ” she pleaded, desperation in her voice.

He looked past her to the stairs she was blocking, then back at Carl who was already smirking because he knew he was off the hook. “Fine,” he groaned. “But Carl has to take out the trash instead of me for a month,” he bargained.

“Done,” Fiona agreed with a quick nod.

“What!? That’s not fucking fair!” Carl complained.

“ _Language,_ ” Fiona practically growled, hitting their little brother on the back of the head. She grabbed her purse off of the top of the dining room table. “I have to get to work. Let’s go,” she said to Carl, ushering him out the door with her.

Ian looked around at the mess he’d somehow gotten roped into and tried to figure out where to begin dealing with it. He was tempted to call Lip for help but he doubted his brother would come home from college just to help him take some dogs back to their homes.

First and foremost, he needed to find out where they lived. The dogs were friendly for the most part ‒ minus the pitbull, who wouldn’t let him get within two feet of her and her new chew-toy ‒ and easily let him check their collars for their owners’ contact information. A few quick calls and he had all the right addresses and a game-plan in mind.

It took a bit of coaxing ‒ or rather, a piece of leftover meatloaf ‒ for the pitbull to allow him to check her tags. Oddly enough, there was an address on her collar instead of a phone number. Ian jotted it down before the dog gobbled up the last morsel of the meatloaf. She aimed a low growl in Ian’s direction and he quickly backed away from her, scared that she was going to attack him if he didn’t keep his distance.

Walking all the dogs at once was not an easy task. They all wanted to go in different directions at once, repeatedly tangling their leashes together, and the stupid chihuahua kept running in circles around him, wrapping Ian’s legs together with his leash. Thankfully, he was the first one to be dropped off, and the old woman he belonged to was so grateful that she gave Ian a twenty dollar bill. It seemed that Carl’s plan had some merit to it after all.

Two hours and four rewards later, Ian was down to the last dog: the angry pitbull. She growled at him whenever he so much as looked at her, and he had no idea why the dog was so aggressive towards him. Dogs usually loved him…

As he approached the address, a horrible feeling started forming in the pit of Ian’s stomach. He checked the paper he’d scrawled the address onto one more time and swallowed hard as he realized his destination was the infamous Milkovich house.

Ian had never had the displeasure of meeting any of the Milkoviches personally, but he’d heard more than enough about them from other people in the neighborhood. Their reputation preceded them, and he was definitely more than a little nervous.

On the other hand, Ian noticed a change in the pitbull’s demeanor as they walked up to the front door. Her little tail was wagging back and forth like a whip and she no longer looked like she wanted to bite his head off.

Ian knocked on the door with a shaky hand. He heard some yelling from inside the house but couldn’t make any of it out. The door eventually opened a crack and an angry-looking, pale brunet grunted at him. “The fuck d’you want?” he sneered, rubbing at his mouth with the side of his thumb. Ian noticed tattoos on his knuckles and swallowed hard.

Just then, the dog yelped and pushed past Ian. The guy’s blue eyes opened wide when he saw her and he immediately bent down to give her a hug while she proceeded to lick every inch of his face. “Karen!” he said, giving her a hug around the neck. “Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl?” he cooed to his dog.

“Karen?” Ian wondered. It wasn’t a common dog name, after all.

The Milkovich answered without even looking up, his attention still on his dog. “Some bitch I went to school with, back in the day. The name seemed fitting,” he said with a shrug.

Ian had a feeling he knew exactly who the brunet was referring to, but kept his mouth shut. Instead, he watched the reunion taking place in front of him. The guy was praising his dog, and she was rubbing against his legs and licking him all over in return. Gone was the intimidating pitbull from before, and all that remained was a happy dog and an equally happy owner.

A really _attractive_ owner, Ian admitted. In his head, he quickly went through the names of the Milkovich brothers he’d heard Lip talking about and wondered which one this one was.

The guy laughed when Karen licked him in his ear and Ian immediately felt guilty for being an asshole and assuming that the dog was violent just because she was a pitbull. It was now obvious that the only reason she’d been hostile towards him was because she wanted to be home with her owner.

He suddenly felt very awkward standing there, just watching the guy and his dog interact. He cleared his throat, and the brunet looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m gonna go…” he muttered, because he couldn’t really think of anything better to say, and took a step back.

The brunet stood up straight and gave Ian something close to a smile (although it resembled more of a smirk). “Thanks for finding her,” he said.

Ian felt a blush creeping up onto his cheeks. His immediate reaction was to correct the guy, since he hadn’t really “found” the dog at all, but then he would have to incur the wrath of a Milkovich, and he had no desire to ruin the guy’s good mood. “Um, yeah... you’re welcome…”

“Ay, Mickey! Get your ass back here!”

The shout came from inside the house and Mickey whipped his head back in its direction and shouted, “Hold your fucking horses! I’m coming!” He looked at Ian again apologetically. “Hey, thanks again man.”

Ian gave him a small smile. “It’s Ian,” he offered with a slight nod of his head.

“Thanks, Ian,” Mickey amended, then ushered Karen in and closed the door behind them.

Ian went back home and spent the rest of his day catching up on the sleep he’d missed that morning. Carl was actually a decent human being for once and stayed clear of their bedroom when he got home from school. Debbie came and woke him up just before dinner, and he went downstairs to join in on the meal with the rest of his family.

“So how did it go?” Fiona asked him as she passed him the aluminum tray of pasta she’d brought home from the diner. “Did you get all the dogs back?”

“Without a hitch,” Ian told her. He left out the part about getting some rewards, since was the one who did the leg work, and he didn’t feel like sharing his spoils with Carl.

Debbie spent the whole meal complaining to them about how her friend Holly was being a bitch to her and ignoring her in school, and all thought of the dogs was forgotten.

Ian helped clean up after the meal and then went for his nightly run. He put his headphones in and listened to an upbeat playlist on his phone, which was strapped to his bicep as he ran. For some reason, he didn’t take the route he normally jogged, but went along an alternate path that passed by the Milkovich house. As he ran down Mickey’s block, he glanced at the dark windows of the house and felt a pang of disappointment. He didn’t know what he was expecting to see, but seeing nothing definitely wasn’t it. Without slowing down, he continued running and turned the corner, only to crash right into someone walking in the opposite direction.

Ian stumbled backwards and struggled to regain his footing. He apologized and reached a hand out to help the person he had bumped into regain his balance. With a start, he realized who it was.

“Mickey?” he asked, voice pitched. He quickly pulled his headphones out of his ears.

The brunet scowled at the same time that his dog growled.

Ian let out a nervous laugh. “Hey, uh… hi. What are you doing here?” he asked, immediately wishing he had just shut his mouth.

“Walking Karen. The fuck does it look like I’m doing?” he groaned, rubbing at his jaw where it had hit Ian’s chest.

“Sorry…” Ian said again. “Didn’t see you there,” he explained.

Mickey rolled his eyes at Ian, and the redhead could just imagine how stupid he sounded for stating the obvious.

“As long as you’re not here to steal my dog again,” Mickey added, giving the pitbull a pat on the head.

“W-what?” Ian stuttered. “I didn’t-”

“Cut the crap,” Mickey told him, shaking his head while smirking. “Karen’s a good dog. She was in the yard, and she wouldn’t have left on her own, even if the gate had been open, which it wasn’t.”

Ian felt like a rat trapped a corner, being teased by the cat as it eyed its prey squirming from its inevitable fate. For the second time today, he felt like he was cornered, with no way out. (Plus, Mickey was much more intimidating than Fiona could ever be.) The only solution that came to mind was to tell the truth.

“I swear, I didn’t,” he began. At the incredulity in Mickey’s eyes, Ian rushed to explain himself. “My little brother thought he could bank on reward money from returning missing dogs. I guess he didn’t feel like doing any work to find _real_ missing dogs, so he created the situations himself. But they destroyed our living room and my sister made me return them all.” He looked at Mickey’s blue eyes guiltily. “Sorry,” he added, for good measure.

Instead of attacking him, the brunet laughed. Ian looked at him, confused, so Mickey explained, “That’s not such a bad plan, if you think about it.”

Ian felt the relief flood over him like a wave. “That’s what I told Fiona,” he admitted, laughing too. After a beat, he looked back to Mickey with his brows knit together. “So, um… If you knew that I didn’t find your dog, why didn’t you say so this afternoon?” he wondered.

Mickey shrugged. “I was just glad to get her back without having to bash someone’s skull in.” He reached down and pet his dog again and the pitbull’s tongue lolled out as she basked in the attention.

Ian nodded because Mickey’s reasoning made sense to him. He remembered how he’d felt when Frank had used Liam as collateral a few years ago, and how relieved he and his siblings had been just to get their little brother back.

“So you’re not stalking my dog?” Mickey accused.

When Ian looked at him, horrified, he saw that the brunet was smirking again. He felt his cheeks get warm and knew that if it were any less dark out, Mickey would have seen the blush on his face from being teased.

“I was just running… like I do every night...” Ian didn’t believe his own words, so he doubted that Mickey would.

Mickey raised his eyebrows and looked at Ian skeptically. “Not down this block,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Would’a noticed,” he explained, pointing at Ian’s hair.

“I swear, running into you was an accident,” Ian told him.

Mickey made a face and shrugged. “Too bad.” He tugged on Karen’s leash and walked around Ian, leaving the redhead completely speechless.

He was already halfway down the block when Ian managed to turn around. He had to run to catch up to the brunet.

“Wait, what?”

Mickey turned and was definitely grinning when he looked at Ian this time.

It took Ian another minute to gather his thoughts. “You weren’t just relieved to have her back,” he said in understanding.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Mickey said in confirmation.

“So… um…” He swallowed. “Maybe I should run into you again?”

Ian could swear Mickey was holding in a laugh, but he continued anyway. “Like, maybe tomorrow night?”

“Sure thing, Firecrotch, as long as you don’t mean literally,” he complained, rubbing at his jaw again. He then reached for Ian’s arm and grabbed his cellphone out of its case, typed something, and replaced the phone.

“Gimme a call,” he said with that same smirk that Ian was already growing so fond of.

Ian watched Mickey and his dog walk away until they went into their house. He put his headphones into his ears and ran back home, grinning the entire way.


End file.
